


Give Me a Dream

by peachyysoda



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyysoda/pseuds/peachyysoda
Summary: Give me a dream to hold dear to my heart





	Give Me a Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkphoenix168](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkphoenix168/gifts).



> I didn’t need it, he wants to say, being with you is happiness enough.  
> He just smiles and nods, and Makoto laughs.

“A dream crafter. You must be fucking with me.”

Kisumi rolls his eyes. “Ever the dramatic, aren't you Sousuke?’ he drawls, mead spilling out of his mug as he throws his arm around his companion in a drunken stupor. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re not part elf?” 

Sosuke barks out a bitter laugh, rolling his shoulders so Kisumi’s arm slips off. “I’m sure.” he menaces, with no bite. “Hunters like me eat elves like you for breakfast.”

Kisumi laughs, slapping Sousuke on the shoulder. “Har har. Anyways, you’re in no position to argue with me.”

“And why exactly is that? Do tell.”

“Well,” Kisumi says, taking a large gulp of mead “Let me paint a picture for you. So you have this idiot - that’s you, in case you didn’t know - who keeps clinging to his once-successful but now struggling bounty hunting business. So his incredibly handsome elf friend - that’s me - suggests he gets a job with a buddy of his, at least until he gets back on his feet. BUT the idiot friend won’t listen to the sound advice of his gorgeous friend, all because  _ apparently _ he can’t be caught dead ‘just collecting ingredients for some dream maker’. Even though he really has no options as of now.”

“My bounty hunting is going just fine, thank you very much.”

“Your last call was that old witch who wanted you to get her cat down from her tree.”

“Ah.”

* * *

 

Sousuke sighed and slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder gingerly, grabbing his bag and hoisting it on the other. He’d be lying if he said he’d miss the shithole that was his home; as his business dried up over the years, his abode followed suit, becoming worse for wear. But it was going to take a while to get used to waking up in a completely different place from now on.

Following the directions Kisumi had hastily scrawled onto a scrap of parchment, Sousuke slowly made his way to the workshop where he was to begin working as a gatherer. His ego was still wounded having to regress from a well-respected bounty hunter to a lowly gatherer, something you’d have an inexperienced apprentice do, but he knew Kisumi was right in that he really had no other choice for a source of income. Besides, Kisumi’s friend was kind enough to even include rooming and food, along with his wages, and even a stubborn man like himself would be a fool to turn down such an offer in his state

He finally makes to the workshop, just as the sun is slowly starting to sink over the crystal lake nearby. The workshop is hulking and old, but still holds a welcoming air to it, the oak furnishing evoking a sense of warmth that can only come from worn but well crafted wood. He reaches for the largen golden knocker embedded in the heavy oak door, a ring in the mouth of a lion, and knocks it on the door once, twice, thrice. 

A cloaked figure opens the door, honeyed voice ringing out, “I’m so sorry, but we’re closing early today. If it’s something quick however, I’m sure I can whip something up.”

“Ah, sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong idea here … I’m not a customer, I’m Kisumi’s friend that he mentioned? Sousuke?”

“Ah, forgive me! It completely slipped my mind you were coming! My name is Makoto! Kisumi told me much about you. Come in, come in.” The cloaked figure slips off his hood, and Sosuke can audibly hear his breath hitch.

The stranger could just as well be the incarnate of Adonis himself. His skin resembled the gold of the knocker, a bronzed tan showing evidence of days of working out in the sunlight. His face was strong, framed by a sharp jawline. His soft brown hair fell over his brows in waves. The feature that stood out the most , however, was his kind, emerald green eyes, drooping with a gentle sleepiness.

“Sousuke? I said you may come in.”

Sousuke blinked and closed his mouth, realizing that his strange gaping didn’t go unnoticed by his host. He stepped into the doorway, still taken aback by just how gorgeous Makoto was.

Sousuke really did try to pay attention, he really did. But as Makoto gave him a tour of his workshop and the surrounding areas, went over the schedule of the workday, and guided him to his room so he could wash up, his eyes could not help but fall to the beautifully soft lips shaping the words he could barely hear.

Makoto takes him to his room and departs, leaving Sousuke on his own. He flops onto his small bed, the weight of the day and his long trek to the workshop finally collapsing down on him. He can’t help but smile, however. Perhaps taking on this job wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

* * *

 

The next day, Makoto wakes him up at the crack of dawn with a warm cup of honey and mint tea. As sleepy as he is, Sousuke can’t help but wonder how wonderful it must be to wake up to such a pretty face everyday.

“Forgive me to waking you up so early, but I really need these ingredients as soon as possible in order to get on with the day.” With that, he hands him a long list and heads off back into the workshop.

The long roll of parchment, endlessly listing various herbs, plants and crystals that Makoto requires, snaps Sousuke back to reality. Right. He was only here to do his job, not to wistfully pine after Makoto. Though the thought was very unconvincing to him, he had no time to bear it any more thought.  He quickly washed up, threw on some clothes, grabbing his bow and arrows and a dagger on the way, and headed out into the woods.

By the time he is finished collecting all the necessary ingredients, it’s well into the thick of of night. Despite the cool air of the darkness, he is still sweating, pack heavy with crystals and plants, and body covered in cuts from crawling into crevices and traversing up small cliffs. 

He stalks into the workshop, where Makoto is steadily working way, and places his sack on the work table where he’s sitting. “Sorry it took so long, but everything’s here.”

Makoto finally looks up, having been intensely absorbed in his herbs just a few second before. “Oh it’s no prob- You’re covered in cuts! And you’re sweating like a beast? Are you alright? Ahh, I’ve really put you through too much trouble, haven’t I? I’m so very sorry!”

“S’okay, it really wasn’t all that bad. I’ve done worse.”

“Nonsense!” Makoto admonishes “I’m a herbalist as well as a dream crafter, you know. Now you’re going to sit down and let me treat you or so help me god you’ll regret it!”

Sousuke laughs and sits down, raising his hands in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. I really don’t want to get on your bad side.”

Makoto quickly concocts a mixture of different plants, and, having Sousuke slide so he’s sitting in front of him, tenderly dabs the concoction on to each of Sousuke's little cuts. Each touch, though brief and light, seem to send an electrifying shock to Sosuke’s core, and he is acutely aware of each inch of Makoto’s skin making contact with his own.  

As Makoto gingerly treats his last cut, Sosuke quips “You know, if I get to be this close to you, I might just try to get some cuts every day.” Makoto pushes him in mock disgust, laughing, but he swears he can see the hint of blush on his cheeks.

“Oh shut up, and just take this.” Makoto retorts, pushing a bottle of shimmery yellow liquid to him.

“You’re trying to poison me? My joke wasn’t that bad you know.”

“Just shut up and drink it!” Makoto laughs again. “Just a little something from me for all the work I made you do.”

Sousuke laughs too, and grabs the flask, taking a large gulp of the potion. 

The potion is thick down his throat, and the taste of warm, sweet honey overwhelms him. The honey fades away to luscious chocolate cake, with hints of lavender and mint accompanying the rich chocolate. He feels light and heady, but this isn’t the drunkenness that come along with a glass of mead,. His cheeks are burning, and he starts to laugh, a feeling of pure joy coming over him, having never tasted something as ambrosial as the potion he had on hand. 

“Just a little happiness dream I whipped up,” Makoto said, “it seemed like it would help after all the hard work you’ve done.”

I didn’t need it, he wants to say, Being with you is happiness enough.

He just smiles and nods, and Makoto laughs.

* * *

 

A few days later, Sousuke finally gets to sleep in. It’s a weekend, meaning that the workshop is closed, and he doesn’t have to trek out and collect materials for Makoto. He gets up and stretches, yawning, and heads to Makoto’s workstation, still shirtless from his sleep clothes.

Ever the diligent dreamcrafter, Makoto was already sitting at his bench, where he was presumably working from the crack of dawn. Sousuke leans over to get a closer look at his work. “Whatcha’ workin’ on there, Makoto?”

Makoto turns around, ready to explain, only to come face to face with Sousuke’s bare chest. He let’s out a yelp and blushes, much to Sousuke’s delight.

“Like whatcha’ see, huh?”

Makoto rolls his eyes, still clearly blushing, and pushes Sousuke away jokingly. “Put a shirt on you damn savage. Have you no decency?”

Sosuke rolls his eyes back mockingly and continues, “Har har. You seem pleased with it though, don’t you? Anyways, what  _ are _ you working on?”

Makoto grins, still slightly flushed. “Well, what I’m trying to do is craft a dream of love. But, god, it’s just been so damn frustrating. Ever since I was an apprentice dreamcrafter, I’ve made all sorts of dreams. Happy dreams, sad dreams, angry dreams, healing dreams, you name it, I’ve made it. It just comes so easily too me, I usually know if i need to add a dash of lavender here, or a touch of honey there, and I can think of the perfect recipe in a heartbeat. But love? God, love is so elusive. I’ve never been able to perfectly capture the passion, the lust, the romance that two people can completely drown themselves in as long as they have each other. Love … I’ve just never been able to catch it.”

We can find love in each other’s hearts, he almost says. Love is when I look at you and know that you’re the one and fall for you a bit more every day. Instead, he says “Sounds interesting. Not that I would know much about love.”

Makoto nods sadly in agreement.

* * *

 

A week later, he is suddenly jostled awake by a frantic Makoto.

“Sosuke - so sorry - have to do it quickly - late order - test out - can’t do it myself -” Makoto rushes frantically.

“Woah, woah. Just calm down and speak clearly please. What’s going on?”

Makoto gulps down a big breath and begins again. “I got an order - from the prince himself.”

Sosuke bolts up. “Seriously? From Prince Matsuoka himself? That’s fucking amazing! What’s wrong? You should be ecstatic!” 

“That’s the thing,” Makoto wrings his hands nervously “I’m really excited for such a large order, especially from such prestigious people as the royal family themselves, but … I’ve been so busy that it completely slipped my mind until now and the deadline came up much faster than I expected. I need to send a large batch for his royal ball tomorrow, so I spent all night making it. But I’ve been so rushed that I don’t know if it’s of quality fit for a royal. I tasted it myself, and it seems fine, but … oh Sousuke I’m so nervous, I need a second opinion! Can you please try this out for me? Please?” Makoto pleads.

Sousuke doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I will! Don’t even worry about it. You perfectly capable of making something great Makoto.” It hurts him to hear him pleading so nervously and frantically, and he wants to do everything he can do to help.

“Thank you so much, Sousuke! This means a lot to me.” Makoto leaves, racing back with a flask of milky, periwinkle blue liquid.

“Here.” he says, out of breath.

Sousuke pulls out the stopper of the flask, and takes a small sip of the fluid inside. He suddenly lurches to his feet, only to fall to his knees,tasting acid burning on his tongue. He feels dizzy, faint, and his blood runs cold as sweat beads up on his forehead. His palms are sweaty, and he dry heaves over and over again, though there is nothing to come out. He squeezes his eye shut, searing pain ripping across his back, and the imprints of a shadowy figure flashes across his mind. He tries to push himself help, faintly hearing Makoto calling his name through the roaring ears, but with a flash of blinding light he falls down.

He wakes up in Makoto’s embrace; he can’t remember what happened, but all that’s registering in his mind is that it feels nice to be held in such strong, warm arms, so much so he almost doesn’t want to get up.But he does, slowly, clutching his head and groaning as he does so.

“Fuck … what happened?” His head is still faintly pounding, and he can just barely think straight as he recollects the past events.

“I don’t know,”  Makoto says, still holding “You collapsed suddenly and scared the hell out of me, that’s what happened. I gave you a flask of the childhood dream I made and -”

“Ah.” said Sousuke, laughing bitterly, “Giving a childhood dream to a fucked up piece of shit like me, Makoto? What did you think would happen?”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Makoto says, realization dawning on his face “I should have asked if it was okay, I should have said what it was, fuck I am so fucking sorry Sousuke I -”

“Makoto, it’s okay. I’m fine now.” Makoto only hugs him tighter, still murmuring apologies.

And he really means it. Being held so tightly in the embrace of the man he loves, everything truly does seem okay.

* * *

 

A few days later, he watches Makoto do his craft. He watches as his deft fingers tie the various leaves, herbs, and flowers he collected the other day in neat, tight bundles. There are soft rays of sunlight floating in through the window, illuminating the soft smoke from the small fire Makoto has made in the corner of the workshop. The light catches on his lashes, and Sousuke realizes that he’s close enough to count each one, close enough to smell the sweet, smoky scent of herbs lingering on Makoto’s skin, close enough to just surge forward and capture his mouth in a kiss. 

But he doesn’t, of course.

Instead, he watches, mesmerized, as Makoto’s hands fly from ingredient to ingredient to concoct a potion whose name was too long for Sousuke to even bother try to remember. There is a warm comfortable silence resting in the air, and Sousuke wish he could live in that very moment for eternity.

But fate had other ideas, and soon Makoto was done his potion, insistently waving the flask of a bright crimson liquid under his nose.

“Try it? Please? I - I promise it won’t hurt you like the last one did.”

He hesitates, last time’s ordeal still a bit too fresh in his mind for comfort. But seeing the genuine kindness in Makoto’s eyes spurs him on, and he gingerly takes the flask despite himself. Worst comes to worst, he would just be able to be comforted but Makoto’s embrace once again. 

He takes a sip and winces, bracing himself for the worst. 

The acidic taste of blood explodes on his tongue, metal and abrasive. It’s followed by the tang of lemons and he can feel his heart beating so fast that it seems to thrum out of his ribcage. He can taste more notes of citrus, along with hints of powerful spices, as sweat beads on his forehead and his heart beats even more insistently than before.

As the final hints of spice fade away, he laughs, feeling a freshly renewed energy that hadn’t experienced since his hunting days. 

“So, you really liked it? I wasn’t really sure how you’d take an exhilaration potion.” Makoto asked, hopeful.

“Like it?” Sousuke laughed again “I loved it. It … it reminded me of back when I was a proper hunter, when I was still getting business everyday. That was my favourite part you know. That chase, running through the woods, feeling the wind on my face. I never thought I’d get to feel that feeling again, now that business had dried up. So … this really means a lot. You got the feeling perfectly.”

Makoto grasps his hands in his own. “I’m glad to hear I can make you feel that way, Sousuke.”

“I’m glad too.”

* * *

 

That night, he dreams. He dreams of an angel descending down a staircase woven of golden sunlight, sheaths of pearlescent wings cascading from the center of his back. He is in awe, the angelic being before him bringing him a feeling more intense than anything that he had ever experienced in his life. The angel descends, descends until he stands in front of Sousuke, piercing emerald eyes staring into what seem to be his very soul. He pulls Sousuke into a tight embrace, a wave of warmth seeming to emanate from the sun itself washing over him. It seems like an eternity that he is cradled in the embrace, the warmth lulling him into a deep sleep, when the angel pulls back, his eyes once staring into Sousuke’s heart.

“I love you” the angel says. 

Sousuke merely gapes, the fact that such a heavenly being would be in love with him. “You … you what?”

“Yamazaki Sousuke, I’m head over heels in love with you.” The angel repeats, flashing a smile evoking the brightness of a thousand suns.

And Sousuke laughs. A laugh of relief, a laugh of joy, as weeks of weight is suddenly lifted off his shoulders with just those few words. He grabs the angel and pulls him to seal their lips in a kiss, still laughing, and from his own back he can feel beautiful wings of his very own sprouting.

Reluctant as he is, he bolts up from his wonderful fantasy the next day, hastily throwing on a tunic and some pants, heart racing, knowing exactly who had to talk to at that very second. 

He runs to the workshop, where Makoto is carefully slicing the herbs he had collected, transferring them into their respective crystal jars.

“MAKOTO!” He yells, startling him. “Sorry … Makoto. I just had something important to tell you.” He’s out of breath at this point, his heart hammering out of his chest.

Makoto asks, concerned, having had the living daylights scared out of him just a second back. “Ah … okay? What is it, Sousuke? Is something wrong?”

“No, no, everything … everything’s right.” Makoto raises an eyebrow quizzically. “Let me explain. Remember … remember how should that in the entirety of your career as a dream maker, you … you were never able to make a dream of love?”

“Yes…?” Makoto is even more confused now, unable to see where Sousuke is going with this.

“Well, I think I can help.” Sousuke pauses nervous, as Makoto nods at him to continue. “Love, is, like you said, one of the hardest emotions to capture. But I had a dream last night and I have the key. You know how white light is just a combination of all the colours in the rainbow?  That’s what love is. Love is that blinding white light, except it's not just white light; it’s anger and happiness and melancholy and every single fucking feeling that the human mind has been able to comprehend since the dawn of time. But more than that, it’s sitting here in this workshop with you, watching you handle your herbs so delicately and precisely, like I wish every day you would embrace me, and being able to rest in a comfortable silence only interrupted by our beating hearts.It’s being to stare into your green eyes and realize how lucky I am to have actually met a fucking angel on earth. That’s what love is, Makoto.”

“Sousuke … I didn’t know you felt this way.”

Sousuke sighs and closes his eye, bracing himself for the stinging pain of rejection. “It’s alright Makoto, I know that it’s unfair of me to spring -”

He’s suddenly tackled by warmth, and opens his eyes to see Makoto hugging him tightly.

“You idiot!” Makoto laughs, and it sounds like music to Sousuke’s ears, like the tinkling wind chimes just outside the window. “Unfair? I was waiting for you to confess you know? You know how hard it’s sitting next to you everyday, falling a bit more in love with you each time but being too much of a coward to actually say anything to you? Do you know what kind of effect of me?”

Sousuke laughs and runs his hand through his hair, still taken aback by the pleasant turn of events.

Makoto continues, “You know, you’re right. I  _ was _ unable to think of the right recipe for crafting a love dream. But that was until I met you. I’ve realized what love is because of you.”

It’s perfect, this moment, holding Makoto in his arms as sunlight filters through the windows and the scent of herbs is pervasive through the air; this little workshop was his home now. Makoto was his home now, he could feel it.

“Makoto … I’m going to kiss you now.”

Makoto didn’t answer. Rather, he leans forward ever so slightly, so that their mouths meet, the contours of their lips fitting just as perfectly as if they were made for each other. They lean together, the their hearts magnetized so that they will forever drawn together. 

It’s better than anything Sousuke could have dreamed of.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on twitter @peachyysoda !


End file.
